Beautiful Redemption (20 page)

“L
ET ME CARRY THAT,”
Thomas said, sliding my leather tote off my shoulder and onto his.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Liis, girlfriends like this stuff. You need to get your head on straight. Stop being an agent, and start playing the part.”

I nodded, unhappily conceding. We had just arrived at San Diego International Airport. I was glad we could breeze through the business-class line. On the final Saturday of spring break, the airport was particularly crowded. Dodging the human traffic on the way to our gate was making an already tense Thomas even more anxious.

“I’m not looking forward to doing this again in the morning or again on Monday morning,” Thomas grumbled.

Noticing women taking second and third glances at Thomas made it hard not to stare at him myself. He was wearing a somewhat tight gray T-shirt with a navy sport coat and jeans, his brown leather belt matching his Timberlands. When I got close enough, I could smell his cologne and found myself breathing deeper.

He hid his eyes behind a pair of aviator sunglasses and kept a forced smile despite being loaded down with our luggage and the knowledge that he would see his family—and Camille—soon.

We sat in the terminal, and Thomas situated our bags around him. He’d only brought a carry-on. The rest was my medium-sized roller luggage, a roller carry-on, and a leather tote.

“What do you have in this thing?” he asked, slowly lowering the leather tote to the floor.

“My laptop, creds, keys, snacks, headset, wallet, a sweater, gum…”

“Did you pack a coat?”

“We’ll be in Illinois for one night, and then we’re off to the Virgin Islands. I can make it for that long with a sweater unless the bachelor party is outside.”

“I’m not sure you’re going to the bachelor party.”

“Trent is proposing to Camille at the bachelor party, right?”

“Seems that way,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet.

“If she can go, I can go.”

“She’s a bartender.”

“I’m an FBI agent. I win.”

Thomas stared at me. “I mean that she might be working the party.”

“So will I.”

“I doubt other females will be there.”

“I’m okay with that,” I said. “Look, I’m not leaving you to witness that alone. I’m not even in love with Jackson, and I can’t imagine how awkward I would feel being present while he proposed.”

“How did the next morning go? You never said.”

“He was gone. I called his mom, and she said that he got home okay. We haven’t spoken.”

Thomas laughed once. “Showed up at your place, begging. What a vagina full of sand.”

“Focus. We won’t have time to drop me off. We’ll have to go straight there, and I’m not waiting in the car. Just tell your brothers we go everywhere together. Tell them that I’m an overbearing, jealous girlfriend. Honestly, I don’t care. But if you wanted background decoration, you should have brought Constance.”

Thomas smiled. “I wouldn’t have brought Constance. She’s very nearly engaged to the S.A.C.’s son.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Really.”

“Another boat you missed while pouting over Camille.”

Thomas made a face. “Constance isn’t my type.”

“Yes, because beautiful, smart, and blonde is so icky,” I deadpanned.

“Not all men are into sweet and loyal.”

“You’re not?” I said, dubious.

He looked down at me, amused. “My type seems to be feisty women who are emotionally unavailable.”

I glared at him. “I’m not the one who is in love with someone else.”

“You’re married to the Bureau, Liis. Everyone knows it.”

“Exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. Relationships are a waste of time for people like us.”

“You think being in a relationship with me would be a waste of time?”

“I know it would. I wouldn’t even come second. I would be third.”

He shook his head, confused. “Third?”

“After the woman you’re in love with.”

At first, Thomas seemed too insulted to argue, but then he leaned into my ear. “Some days, you make me wish I’d never told you about Camille.”

“You didn’t tell me about her, remember? It was Val.”

“You need to get over it.”

I touched my chest. “
I
need to get over it?”

“She’s an ex-girlfriend. Stop being a brat.”

I gritted my teeth, afraid of what would come out of my mouth next. “You miss her. How am I supposed to feel about that? You still have a picture of her in your living room.”

Thomas’s face fell. “Liis, c’mon. We can’t do this now.”

“Can’t do what? Fight over an ex-girlfriend? Because a real couple wouldn’t do that.” I crossed my arms and sat back against the seat.

Thomas looked down, laughing once. “I can’t argue with that.”

We waited at the gate until the desk agent called business class for boarding. Thomas loaded up with our carry-ons and my tote, refusing to let me help. We slowly stepped forward in line, listening to the machine beep each time the ticket agent scanned a boarding pass.

Once we were through, Thomas followed me down the jetway, and then we were stopped again near the door of the plane.

I noticed the females staring—this time, the flight attendants—looking past me to Thomas. He seemed unaware. Maybe he was just used to it at this point in his life. At the office, it was easy to pretend he wasn’t beautiful, but out in the real world, the reactions of others reminded me of how I’d felt the first time I saw him.

We settled in our seats, buckling in. I finally felt relaxed, but Thomas was on edge.

I put my hand on his. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” he said.

His words stung. Although unintentional, they had a deeper meaning. He was about to watch the woman he loved agree to marry someone else. And he was right. The woman he loved wasn’t me.

“Try not to think about her,” I said. “Maybe we can step out before it happens. Get some air.”

He looked at me as if I should have known better. “You think I’m stressed about Trenton’s proposal?”

“Well…” I began but didn’t quite know how to finish.

“You should know the picture is gone,” he said matter-of-factly.

“The picture of Camille? Gone where?”

“In a boxful of memories—where it belongs.”

I looked at him for the longest time, a twinge forming in my chest.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“I’m happy,” I said, half-ashamed, half-bewildered.

Holding back now would make me gratuitously stubborn. He had put her away. I had no excuse.

I reached over and laced my fingers in his, and he brought my hand up to his mouth. He closed his eyes and then kissed my palm. Such a simple gesture was so intimate, like tugging at someone’s clothes during a hug or the tiniest touch on the back of the neck. When he did things like that, it was easy to forget he’d ever thought of someone else.

After the passengers settled into their seats and the flight attendants informed us how to survive a possible plane crash, the plane taxied to the end of the runway and then surged forward, the speed climbing and the fuselage rattling, until we took off in a quiet smooth motion.

Thomas began to fidget. He turned around and then faced forward.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I can’t do this,” Thomas whispered. He looked over at me. “I can’t do this to him.”

I kept my voice low. “You’re not doing anything to him. You’re the messenger.”

He looked up at the vent above his head and reached up, turning the knob until air was blowing full blast in his face. He settled back into his seat, looking miserable.

“Thomas, think about it. What other option does he have?”

He clenched his teeth as he always did when he was annoyed. “You keep saying I’m protecting him, but if I hadn’t told my director about Travis and Abby, he wouldn’t have to choose.”

“That’s true. Prison would be his only choice.”

Thomas looked away from me and out the window. The sun reflected off the sea of white clouds, making him squint. He closed the shutter, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust.

“This is impossible,” I said. “We have a job to do, and if we have all this personal junk swimming around in our heads, we’re going to make a mistake, and this entire operation will go south. But its very nature is personal. This assignment involves your family. And we’re here, together, with our own…issues. If we don’t figure out a way, Thomas, we’re fucked. Even if—
when
Travis says yes, if you’re not on your A game, Grove is going to sniff this out.”

“You’re right.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I teased, touching my fingers to my ear.

The flight attendant leaned in. “Can I get you a beverage?”

“White wine, please,” I said.

“Jack and Coke,” Thomas said.

She nodded and stepped toward the row behind us, asking the same.

“I said you’re right,” Thomas said begrudgingly.

“Are you nervous about seeing Camille tonight?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “The last time I saw her, she was in the hospital, pretty banged up.” He noticed my surprised expression and continued, “She and Trenton were driving just outside of Eakins when they were hit by a drunk driver.”

“I can’t decide if your family is really lucky or really accident-prone.”

“Both.”

The flight attendant brought our drinks, setting down napkins first and then our glasses. I took a sip of wine as Thomas watched. He paid special attention to my lips, and I wondered if he had the same jealous thoughts as I did when his lips would touch things other than my mouth.

Thomas broke his stare and looked down. “I’m happy for Trent. He deserves it.”

“And you don’t?”

He laughed nervously and then looked up at me. “I don’t want to talk about Camille.”

“Okay. It’s a long flight. Talk, nap, or read?”

The flight attendant returned with a notepad and pen. “Miss…Lindy?”

“Yes?”

She smiled, dozens of gray strands shooting out like lightning bolts from her French braid. “Would you like the grilled chicken with sweet chili sauce or our grilled salmon with lemon caper butter?”

“Uh…the chicken, please.”

“Mr. Maddox?”

“The chicken as well.”

She scribbled on her notebook. “Everyone okay with beverages?”

We both looked at our nearly full glasses and nodded.

The attendant smiled. “Fantastic.”

“Talk,” Thomas said, leaning toward me.

“What?”

He stifled a laugh. “You asked, talk, nap, or read. I choose talk.”

“Oh.” I smiled.

“But I don’t want to talk about Camille. I want to talk about you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why? I’m boring.”

“Have you ever broken a bone?” he asked.

“No.”

“Ever cried over a guy?”

“Nope.”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“You…were my first.”

Thomas’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “What? But you were engaged…”

I giggled. “I’m just kidding. I was twenty. College. Not anything or anyone to speak of.”

“Illegal drugs?”

“No.”

“Ever drank enough that you passed out?”

“No.”

Thomas thought for approximately thirty seconds.

“I told you,” I said, a tad embarrassed, “I’m boring.”

Then, he asked his next question, “Have you ever slept with your boss?” He smirked.

I shrank into my seat. “Not on purpose.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

“It’s not funny. I was mortified.”

“Me, too, but not for the reason you think.”

“Because you were afraid of what Tarou or Benny would do to me if Grove found out why I was there?”

Thomas frowned. “Yes.” He swallowed hard and then looked down at my lips. “That night with you…it changed everything. I was going to give it a few days, so I wouldn’t look completely pathetic when I knocked on your door. I came to work that morning and immediately told Marks that he was coming with me to Cutter’s. I was hoping to run into you again.”

I smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking away again. “I’m still concerned. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you.”

“Darn,” I teased.

Thomas didn’t seem happy about my response. “I’m not the one who keeps tabs on people, remember?”

“Sawyer?” I asked.

When Thomas affirmed my suspicion with a nod, I chuckled.

“It’s not funny,” he said, unamused.

“It’s a little funny. No one will tell me why they dislike him, except to say he’s a bastard or an asshole. Neither you nor Val will give me anything specific. He helped me unpack. He was at my condo all night and didn’t try to sleep with me. He’s got the sleazy barfly thing going on, but he’s harmless.”

“He’s not harmless. He’s married.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“No, it sounded like you said Agent Sawyer is married.”

“He is.”

“
What?
”

Thomas was beyond annoyed, but I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was telling me.

He leaned closer. “To Val.”

“What?” My voice lowered an octave. Now, I knew he was messing with me.

“It’s true. They were like Romeo and Juliet at first, and then it turned out that Sawyer has a small issue with commitment. Val has sent him divorce papers several times. He keeps dragging it out. They’ve been separated for almost two years.”

My mouth was still hanging open. “But…they live in the same building.”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “They live in the same condo.”

“Shut the front door!”

“Different bedrooms. They’re roommates.”

“Val makes me tell her
everything
. This is just…I feel betrayed. Is that rational? I do.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, shifting in his seat. “She’s definitely going to kill me.”

I shook my head. “I did not see that coming.”

“I’d ask you not to tell her that I told you, but when we get back, she’ll take one look at you and know.”

I turned to face him. “How does she do that?”

He shrugged. “She’s always had a bullshit detector, and then the FBI helped her hone her skill. With pupil dilation, delay of response, looking up and to the left, and whatever inner radar she has that goes off, she can detect more than just lies now. She detects omission even if you’ve got news on your mind that you’re keeping to yourself. Val knows all.”